Is Or Isn't
by corneroffandom
Summary: Ricardo can't help but wonder...


Night of Champions. The night where Alberto Del Rio had promised to gain vengeance against Sheamus and win the World Title from him, as pay back for the large Irishman carelessly Brogue Kicking Ricardo Rodriguez nearly two weeks prior. This hadn't happened, Booker T for whatever reason deciding at the very last minute that the Brogue Kick, though devastating, should not be banned, reinstates it just before the match begins.

Otunga and Alberto both ended up eating a Brogue Kick, the match going to Sheamus. Ricardo had scrambled, desperate to make up for earlier when he'd made both men angry upon not wearing his neck support as the trainer had ordered, helping Alberto out of the arena as Sheamus had celebrated. Luckily the trainer, upon examining both Otunga and Del Rio, had determined that Otunga's injury hadn't been worsened and that Alberto would be sore, but would be cleared to compete the following evening, Sheamus not hitting the full effect of the kick on either man like he had when Ricardo had pushed Alberto out of the way or the first kick against Otunga.

The younger Mexican now sits on a chair overlooking Boston, staring up at the moon and wishing that the calm outside would slowly ease his own wayward thoughts, allow him to get some sleep. He had been Alberto's personal ring announcer for over two years now, always by his side, loyally helping with this match and that segment, furthering his cause as best he could to get him in line of any title belt or accolade he desired. He had even appeared on the shows alone at times when Alberto had been injured or held up in Mexico to ensure that he wouldn't be overlooked or forgotten and, yes, of course, he was paid handsomely, which made all of the personal slights, embarrassments and injuries at least a little easier to bear, but...

He stiffens, holding his breath as he hears Alberto shift behind him, his bed creaking as he gets up and pads off to the bathroom, mumbling tiredly to himself. When the door clicks shut, he relaxes briefly, turning his focus once more to the outside world. He expects Alberto to stumble back out in a couple of minutes and go back to bed, unaware of Ricardo's presence in the slightest, so he doesn't move or respond when Del Rio comes out and walks back to his bed, the sheets shuffling as he prepares to get back inside. The noise quiets suddenly, confusing the ring announcer. "Ricardo?" Alberto suddenly asks, sounding surprisingly aware considering the short amount of time he'd been awake.

Moving carefully due to his still healing neck, Ricardo turns to face him, surprised to find him staring groggily at the empty, unmade bed across from him. "El Patron?" The older man jerks, hissing slightly as he grabs at his own neck, squinting through the pale light at Ricardo. "Lo siento," he whispers, feeling horrible for startling him. "Do you need something?"

He shakes his head gingerly. "What are you doing over there?"

"Just thinking, El Patron," he says after a quiet moment, lips twitching sheepishly. "Everything is fine."

Alberto huffs vaguely, running his fingers through his jet black hair, before getting up once more and joining Ricardo, sitting on the chair across from him. They stare at each other for a bit before Alberto nudges him with his bare foot, finding it a little chilly by the window and not wanting to disrupt either of their sleep further while waiting for Ricardo to take the hint and talk. "What is it?"

"El Patron?" he asks uncertainly, eyes wide.

"Why are you not asleep?" he clarifies, covering a yawn as he stares back at the younger man. "Is it your neck?"

He colors, his thoughts once more growing conflicted. "I, it is nothing, El Patron. It has just been a weird few weeks, I am trying to sort through things..."

Alberto still doesn't move. "Such as?" Ricardo freezes, turning to look back outside as he finds himself unable to answer, unable to look the other man in the eye. His thoughts are ludicrous, he knows. He would rather not discuss them, doubting if the answer he'll receive will make him feel any better. "Ricardo," he snaps, voice quickly edging into that impatient _do as I wish or else_ place that Ricardo had come to fear, had unfortunately heard earlier when he'd taken his neck brace off briefly.

It breaks him, this snap in Alberto's voice, and before he can decide how to word the thing at the forefront of his mind, it pours out of his mouth. "Are we truly friends?"

Alberto stares at him, his face blank. "Que?" Ricardo fumbles with his fingers, once more incapable of looking him in the eye, and the Mexican aristocrat sighs, leaning forward. "What do you mean, Ricardo?"

Frustrated and a little worried about where this might lead, Ricardo leans away from him, wishing abruptly that he could just melt into the folds of the chair, and scrubs at his face. "The only time you claim that I am your friend is when I've been injured and you are looking into lawsuits. Last year with Big Show, this here now with Sheamus." His eyes dart up briefly before falling back on his folded hands. "Otherwise... I..." He hesitates, licking his lips. "It seems I am nothing more than just another member of your staff, conveniently containing enough skills to be your ring announcer."

His words are cut off by a strange, almost foreign sound and he looks up to find Alberto laughing slightly, his flush only growing as more humiliation fills him, mortified. He thinks he has his answer, moving to stand, but Del Rio's bronze hand grips his shirt, keeping him in place. "Where do you think you are going, Ricardo? We are not done talking," he tells him, laughter dying away as quickly as it'd come. He freezes on the edge of his chair, Alberto sighing as he smirks at him. "Any other member of my staff would not be trusted to accompany me on the road to all of my matches," he tells him. "Especially for this extended period of time."

Ricardo watches him with a frown, gripping his hand to try to ease his tight hold, keep him from tearing his shirt as he continues to talk. "El Patron?"

"You are loyal," he explains quietly. "And things may not always work out the way either of us plan, but I know you are always in my corner, no matter what. You have always done what I required of you without question or complaint. I doubt I would've made it this far without you." He pauses for a moment, making sure Ricardo's focus is solely on him. "I may not always say so, and I may let my temper get the best of me at times, but yes, Ricardo. I have always considered us friends. Never doubt that, por favor."

Ricardo nods slowly, feeling like a great weight has fallen from his shoulders. "Si, El Patron. Of course." He watches as Alberto stands, releasing his shirt and allowing him to sit back against the chair to let him through. As he returns to bed, Ricardo stands and, pulling the covers free, finally sinks onto his own mattress, sighing softly. It had been a long, confusing day and he is relieved to see the end of it.

He carefully rolls onto his side, blinking in surprise when he finds Del Rio's eyes glinting in his direction as he too gets comfortable in the plush satin sheets. "Buenas Noches, Ricardo," he says after a moment.

Ricardo smiles. "Buenas Noches, El Patron."


End file.
